


just wanna hear you say (you got me baby, are you mine?)

by twosetmeridian



Series: counterpoint [twosetviolin oneshots] [15]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Romance, Voyeurism, canon compliant to real life, inspired by the cbf video, smut is hard. . . in every way, some filthy thing from twitter that nearly gave me a breakdown to write sksksk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosetmeridian/pseuds/twosetmeridian
Summary: They make a game out of perfect pitch, even in bed. Three little notes to hum; that's all it takes.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: counterpoint [twosetviolin oneshots] [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560592
Comments: 11
Kudos: 134





	just wanna hear you say (you got me baby, are you mine?)

**Author's Note:**

> _→ concerning the use of the phrase cbf or "can't be fucked"_
> 
> title from _r u mine?_ by the arctic monkeys.

They make a game out of perfect pitch, even in bed.

It’s a competition of sorts. Brett seduces, pulls out every trick up his sleeve, and then asks. Eddy is tempted, beguiled, and then answers by humming three notes under his breath. _Can’t be fucked, can’t be fucked._ The three-point melody is both benchmark and declaration; the goal is to withstand for as long as possible.

(But after a near decade of togetherness, Brett’s gotten better at tearing him to pieces and putting him back together. Child’s play, really.)

“Hey, stay with me, baby,” Brett tells him, his hand sliding down to Eddy’s hip, holding him steady against the window frame while he thrusts against him with shallow, teasing strokes. “You’re so gorgeous like this, where everyone can see me devour you piece by piece,” he breathes into Eddy’s ear, his fingers tracing down the length of his spine so he can split Eddy’s ass apart and hold him open for the taking, the hard length of his cock nestled tight up against where Eddy could take him in. “You with me, darlin’?”

 _I’m with you_ , he wants to say, _I’m with you_ , but then Brett falls to his knees, soft thumps of his knees against the carpet, and then his tongue is on him, slipping just barely _into_ him— _can’t be fucked, doesn’t count_ —and his vision whitens out.

“Fuck,” comes the murmur between his thighs, and Eddy slams his arms against the window, Singapore-skyline lights glistening through the tears in his eyes, body convulsing with pleasure. “ _Fuck_ , just like that, baby. All you have to do is surrender.” _All you have to do is lose_ , he hears between the lines. _I’ll make it worth your while_. “Won’t you?”

(He always loses this game; he _wants_ to, but he’ll make Brett work for it, every time.)

He hums the notes. _C and a B and an F_. _You can’t fuck me, not yet, I’m still in the game_. There’s silence, and then Brett clucks his tongue: a little sound of disappointment. “Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough, huh?”

“Maybe,” Eddy tells him, breathless and undone.

Brett hums, voice casual. Like discussing the weather. “Guess I’ll have to make sure you don’t come until I get in you.”

“You can try,” Eddy tells him, slightly more breathless than before.

He is brought to the brink four more times, and four more times he is denied. He makes it to the edge for the fifth time before he finally gives in, babbling _yes please yes_ into his lover’s mouth, stretched out and spent. Brett is a gracious winner, always: he fucks Eddy with the same measure of dedication he uses to learn Tchaikovsky, pushing in deep, legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter. The night boils, bubbles over until he’s left gasping into velvety cushions, wetness spreading across his belly, the starfire-pulse feeling of his best friend coming inside him.

(He memorizes every note Brett makes when he comes. It’s something to cling to, a lullaby for the lonely nights. He doesn’t know if he can keep Brett forever, but he can keep this. Half-formed symphonies under the cover of night, the memory of warm skin.)

“Thank you,” he whispers, and Brett kisses his forehead, endlessly gentle with him. Wrenches Eddy’s heart out of his chest without even really knowing it.

“Anything for you, darling.”

(And every time, he thinks— _maybe, just maybe, I can keep this_.)


End file.
